Because We Must
by Maya Tamika
Summary: Hyrule is under corrupt rule, and the goddesses decide it is time to intervene. Now, it is up to an odd group of delinquents to complete the goddesses' plans and set Hyrule back on track. Rated T for language, violence and gore.


Zelda turned down the dark alley in complete confidence. She wasn't supposed to be here, but she didn't care. She didn't care what her father did to her. Besides, the chances of him doing anything were slim. He didn't care, either. As far as he was concerned, he was immortal.

Zelda rolled her eyes at the thought. He was shallow and stupid. But what could she do? Nothing. That's what she could do.

She passed a few obscure doors, ignoring all of them, and finally reached her destination. She descended the stairs, opened the unlocked door and pushed her way inside. The dust hung thickly in the air. The only noise was a gentle ticking sound that came from a clock on the other side of the room. An exposed bulb hung from the ceiling and swung slightly back and forth. Suddenly, the entire building rumbled with noise as a subway passed beneath it.

Lined up against the wall on Zelda's left were an odd group of people. Closest to Zelda was a red-haired girl whose long hair was pinned up in a bun. She was sitting up and staring into the distance while she bit off small pieces from a pack of crackers she had and chewed them slowly.

Next to the red-head was a girl with pale skin and bright orange hair. She sat back in her chair and the only proof that she was even alive was that every few minutes her jaw would move, indicating that she was chewing gum.

Next to her was a boy with purple hair and red eyes whose head was slowly moving toward his chest and whose eyes were closing slightly as he began to fall asleep.

Next to him was a boy with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes who simply sat, twiddling his thumbs.

As the door closed behind Zelda with a loud bang, all four teens looked up at her, the purple haired boy rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The red-head smiled, "hey, Zel! I was wondering if you'd come tonight."

Zelda grimaced, "dad couldn't keep me locked up another night no matter how much he tried."

"It wasn't your dad we were worried about…" the orange-haired girl said.

"What? You mean Impa?" Zelda shrugged, "she agrees that I need time away, though she doesn't think you guys are the best crowd."

"Probably because we're not," the blonde boy said.

Zelda smiled, "agreed. You're a bunch of idiots."

"But we're awesome idiots," the red-head said.

"And we're your awesome idiots," the blonde agreed.

Zelda smiled. "Are you still waking up, Vaati?" she asked.

The purple-haired boy glanced up, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "I'm not a morning person."

"It's almost midnight, Vaati," the blonde said.

"And after midnight comes morning, Rinku," Vaati replied.

"It's not morning until you go to bed first," the orange-haired girl said.

"Thank you, Midna," Rinku said.

Midna smiled and winked. Zelda walked over and sat next to Rinku on an empty chair. The building rumbled again as another subway passed.

"There's no way that's safe," the red-head stated.

Midna shrugged, "if you don't like it, you can leave, Malon."

"I didn't say I didn't like it. I'm just expecting the entire place to come crashing in on us at any minute," Malon clarified.

"I wouldn't mind that," Rinku said, stretching, "maybe if I got seriously injured my parents would actually care about me. Then again, they probably wouldn't. Knowing my luck I'd end up washing dishes in the hospital to try and cover my bill. Or, if I died, I wouldn't have to worry about any of that."

"What? Are you suicidal now?" Zelda asked.

"Naw. It's not worth my energy. I'm just saying it wouldn't be a bad thing, necessarily," Rinku explained.

"You pretty much just defined 'suicidal', Rinku," Midna said. Rinku merely shrugged.

"Hospital might be a nice alternative to constant schooling," Vaati grumbled. He picked up a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

"At least you have schooling," Malon retorted.

"It's not that great. You're not missing much," Zelda told her.

"I can understand when you have a dad like yours, Zelda. But Vaati…"

Vaati cut Malon off, "my parents don't give a crap about me. At least your dad does."

"Yeah. Too bad I don't live with him. I have to live with my stupid uncle," Malon snapped.

"Look, can we stop with the pity parties?" Midna interrupted, "you could cut the tension in here with a knife."

"I'd like to cut something in here with a knife," Vaati said, glaring at her, "your life is perfect isn't it?"

"Ha! I wish. You think my parents care about me? They only care that I rake in the dough for them to roll around in. I'm pretty and look good in anything. That's what they like about me. They couldn't care less about me personally," Midna told him harshly.

"Okay, guys, seriously. We come here to escape our personal lives, not relive them," Zelda scolded.

The room fell silent.

"Hey, Vaati," Midna said. Zelda tensed. "Pass me a cigarette," she finished.

The night progressed with only the loud ticking of the clock to keep the teens company. there was little to no conversation all night. Around 3AM, Zelda yawned, "I should get back. I don't want to face my dad's wrath."

Midna glanced at the clock and winced, "same here. My parents probably have a busy schedule for me that starts in two hours."

"The farm doesn't tend itself," Malon said, "and I think my dad is visiting either today or tomorrow."

"I told you! It's never tomorrow until you go to bed!" Rinku objected.

"_I_ said that," Midna complained.

Rinku shrugged and winked at her, stifling a yawn, "I should probably go, too. You want me to walk you, Malon?"

"If you're offering," Malon replied.

"I'll go with you, Zel, if you want. We live in the same neighborhood. Sorta," Midna said.

Zelda shrugged, "why not. You coming Vaati?"

Vaati yawned and stretched before dropping his cigarette on the floor and stomping it out, "why not? I probably have school tomorrow or something equally as torturous."

They all stood up, filed out the door, and parted ways, Midna, Vaati and Zelda going one way, and Rinku and Malon going another.

Off they walked into the dark morning.

**It is…a trivial thing at best…**

Do not underestimate it.

_It is strong._

**You do not have proof.**

_I do not need it. _

**I want it.**

_You must wait._

Tell me…who will you choose?

_The girl is clever. She may need it. And you?_

The boy is strong. I want him.

**Them? You choose unworthy people.**

Is their education not the purpose?

_That is what I thought, as well._

**Do not mistake my intentions. I simply believe you're wrong.**

_If that is all, I may have already mistaken you._

**I take my leave.**

What do you see?

_Their time draws near._

Then we chose correctly?

_As fate would have it, we could not choose wrong._

I fear you may be wrong in that.

…_Do you fear for her?_

Yes.

_As do I. But we must not. _She_ watches all._

…

_You are still nervous._

You read me well.

_I always have. But now, let us go. The time draws near._

As morning poured through the window, Zelda coughed, then groaned. A small amount of cigarette smoke from last night was still lodged in her throat. It didn't usually bug her much, but on occasion it took its time clearing out. She never actually smoked, but she did plenty of second-hand smoking. If the smell was still in her clothes, Impa would not be happy.

Suddenly, light poured in as someone opened the curtains and Zelda groaned again. She pulled her covers over her head, but a moment later, someone pulled them back again and she found herself staring into Impa's red eyes.

"Out late last night, weren't you?" Impa asked.

"I needed to get away," Zelda replied as she tried to pull the covers out of Impa's hand and back over her head. Impa would not yield.

"I smelled the smoke when you came in. Were you smoking?"

"No. The others were."

"You need to get up."

"No I don't."

Zelda felt the familiar weight of Impa sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Zelda…I know you don't want to, but it's not my decision. Your father would not be happy if you simply stayed in bed. He might even come up here."

"And risk leaving his throne? I doubt he'd bother."

"But if he did…"

Zelda groaned for a third time, "fine. But only if you leave."

Impa raised an eyebrow, "if I leave, you'll just go back to sleep."

"Yeah. I probably will."

Impa sighed, "get up. Now."

Zelda knew that voice. Negotiations were over. She had known from the beginning that she would lose, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction to fight for a little while. Slowly, she began to drag herself out of the bed.

Impa already had her clothes set out. It was so different from what she had worn the previous night. She had worn comfortable sneakers, khaki pants, a dark green tank top and a baggy black jacket. She had put her hair up in a comfortable French braid that was now coming out, leaving strands of blonde hair in her face. Now, she was forced to wear a pink dress, pink high heels, her hair down with a pink headband, a silver bracelet, and a diamond necklace. Pink. She hated pink.

After she showered, she pulled her clothes on while Impa did her hair. She brushed it out and styled it with the headband to keep it out of Zelda's face. As soon as Impa was done, Zelda pulled her bangs forward and let them fall over one of her eyes. It was a kind of silent rebellion. She knew Impa didn't approve, and her father hated it, but neither of them could do anything about it, since if they did, she would just come up with something else. That's what she had done in the past and she would do it again in a heartbeat.

Once she was ready, she headed down to breakfast, trailing dutifully behind Impa.

Rinku opened his eyes and looked around. The other bed in the room was empty, meaning Malon was already gone. He glanced at his watch. 11:24. He sighed and rolled over. He should go home. His dad wouldn't want him to be gone this long.

He flung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He put a hand to his head and ruffled his blonde hair, scratching his head. He was wearing the same thing now as he had the night before: baggy blue jeans over dirty sneakers, a white t-shirt, and a large zip-up hoodie. Rinku liked staying at Malon's house because he found it to be much more welcoming than his own. Sure, Malon's uncle hated him, but his own father hated him more than anyone's uncle could.

He yawned and stood up. He hadn't even taken off his shoes when he collapsed on the bed last night. He walked across the room to the door, then crossed the hall and entered the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and dried it off. Finally somewhat awake, he left the bathroom and went downstairs. He knew he would never get away with eating at Malon's house, so he figured he would just go home and eat something really quickly, then head back out on the streets. He considered just buying something off the streets, but at least at his house he got food for free. That was probably the only good thing about going home.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Malon's uncle, Ingo, getting an early start to his lunch. "Oh. You're here again, are you?" Ingo asked, "I presume you're leaving."

"Uh, yeah," Rinku said somewhat sarcastically.

"Good. I don't want you anywhere near my niece."

"Stop kidding yourself. You and I both know you don't give head or tail about Malon."

Ingo's face turned red, "just leave! Now! Don't ever come back!"

Rinku raised his eyebrows. Usually it took more prodding to get Ingo to lose his temper. He must be having a bad day. Poor Malon.

Rinku ignored Ingo's rants as he walked out the front door, slamming it behind himself. Rinku caught Malon's eye as he walked away from the farm and waved. She smiled and waved back.

Rinku left the farm. It was a few miles away from the main city, so it took quite a while to walk out. The previous night, Malon and Rinku had taken a cab from the city, but cabs rarely came out this far, so he would have to walk back. It didn't matter; he wasn't in any rush.

Slowly, he began making his way toward the city.

_Is he ready?_

I believe so.

_Then your decision is final?_

Yes. Is yours?

_Yes._

**I still believe you chose wrong.**

You do not choose for us.

**No. But I should.**

_Do you claim to be wiser than I?_

**I did not say that.**

You might as well have.

_Think. Use your head. Now is not the time for division between us. We have been given a mission._

**Then you complete it.**

We intend to. But we need your help.

**Why?**

Rinku wandered aimlessly through the streets. Well, semi-aimlessly. He was headed in the general direction of his house, but he hoped that if he could catch an odd job for a merchant or someone and make a couple dollars, the punishment might not be as bad.

He turned down a dark alley and tried to walk slowly, all too aware that he was dangerously close to his house. He stopped for a moment and leaned against a wall, groaning. He really didn't want to go home. He could leave, he told himself, he could simply walk away and no one would ever need to know. But then, he'd be leaving his little sister to the same fate as him. He wouldn't do that. He wasn't about to betray her the way he had been betrayed. He hated his older brother.

As he pushed off the wall and began walking again, the dread growing in his stomach, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Suddenly, the dread became nausea. That was new. He had never felt sick just from going home before. He tasted bile. His body weakened. He tripped and was forced onto his knees. His body began to ache. His hands left their pockets. He used them to support him, as his knees were no longer sufficient. He sat like that, gasping, convinced he was going to vomit. He dry heaved a few times before his left arm gave out completely. He rolled onto his side, his left arm hanging limp under him. He stared at the back of his hand as it began to burn.

His hand felt like it was on fire. The pain shot up his arm and rocketed through his shoulders. It quickly spread through his whole body and he clamped his eyes shut. His gasps for air became desperate and he thought he was going to die. Just when he thought the pain couldn't get worse, it did. On a specific point on the back of his hand, he felt something being branded into his skin. He curled into a ball for a moment, then thrashed around, then spread out, trying to find some position that would lesson his pain, but none worked.

Another point of pain branded onto his hand in a different place. He screamed through his teeth. He grabbed his hair with his right hand, nearly pulling it out. As he thought the pain would subside, yet another point of pain came on. The three points seemed to move and grow. He screamed. He opened his eyes. He saw three glowing golden triangles on the back of his left hand.

Finally, the pain began to ebb. Rinku gasped and thrashed on the ground as it left. His body was weak and his head still hurt, but it was bearable. He didn't think he could make it home, though. Not until he got some sleep. As he closed his eyes, he heard a gentle voice in his head, "I have given you my gift…Link…"

Who was Link? He opened his eyes and looked around for the source of the voice, but there was no one close by. Except…was that a person? He thought he saw someone coming from the direction of his house.

He could barely keep his eyes open and his brain was too fuzzy to make out the face. He felt gentle hands on his shoulders, and someone, a female voice, said, "oh my gosh, Rinku!"

Someone lifted his right arm and draped it over something. His left sleeve was dragged over his hand. He thought he heard someone talking, but it felt distant. His eyes closed and he hardly remembered hearing yelling. Then there was something soft underneath him.

When Rinku woke up, the light seemed too bright. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tried again. After blinking several times, he was able to open his eyes wide enough to recognize his surroundings. He was in the room he used to share with his brother. It was now just his room, though. He tried to push himself up, but pain shot up his left arm and he collapsed back on the pillow. He remembered the incident in the alleyway and looked down at his hand. He pulled back the sleeve of his hoodie, which was covering his hand, and saw them: the same three triangles that still pulsated with golden light. He noticed, however, that the bottom right triangle was glowing the brightest.

Gingerly, he touched the strange mark. It stung. He tried to remember where he had seen it before, since he was certain he had.

Just then, the door opened and his sister entered, carrying a bowl of soup. "Rinku! You're up!" she announced with such enthusiasm Rinku was certain she would drop the bowl.

"Yeah. I guess so. What happened?" Rinku asked.

"I don't really know," his sister said, shaking her head as she sat on a chair next to Rinku's bed, "I heard screaming and it sounded like you, so I went out into the alley and found you looking half dead. You had that strange mark on your hand and I didn't think dad would like it, so I covered it and brought you up here."

"Was dad mad that I was gone so long?" Rinku asked nervously.

"He's always mad at you, Rinku."

Rinku was suddenly filled with horror, "he didn't touch you, did he, Aryll? Tell me he didn't hurt you or yell at you or anything!" Suddenly his head began to hurt and he groaned.

"Rinku…"

"Tell me," Rinku demanded more gently.

Aryll sighed, "he yelled at me, but he didn't hurt me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I should have come home earlier. I should have been here."

Aryll set the bowl of soup on the floor and put her arm behind Rinku's shoulders. She helped him sit up, propping pillows up behind him, and put the soup in his lap.

Rinku carefully flexed his left arm to make sure he wouldn't drop the hot soup all over himself, then gingerly picked it up. He took a sip, "wow. This tastes just like grandma's soup!"

"It is grandma's soup," Aryll told him.

"It can't be. Grandma died two years ago."

"Yes, but she taught me her recipe for soup five years ago."

"All these years and you never told me you knew how to make it?"

"I wanted to surprise you on a special occasion."

"I wasn't aware this classified as a 'special occasion'."

Aryll shrugged, "I figured you needed it."

"That I do." Rinku ate the soup quickly and quietly without spilling a drop. His arm ached slightly when he moved it, but it was bearable and seemed to be fading. When he was done, he handed the bowl back to Aryll, "thanks."

"No problem. I've got more downstairs, so that can be supper, too."

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours."

"Is dad mad at me?"

"Didn't you already ask that?"

Rinku sighed, "yeah. I guess I did." He looked at his left hand again, "Aryll, where have I seen this before?"

Aryll raised an eyebrow at it before stating, "the temple. Remember when grandma took us? They had all kinds of murals and tapestries with that in it. It was called a Tri-something, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. And there were three compartments or something, right? Like, three sacred powers?"

"Power, wisdom, and…"

"Courage."

"Right."

"The Triforce."

"The Triforce?"

"That's what it's called."

"How do you know that all of the sudden?"

Rinku shook his head and suddenly felt tired, "I don't know," he yawned, "I just do."

Rinku closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

Rinku woke to the sound of yelling. He instantly recognized his father's voice and was about to simply ignore it, until he realized that his father wasn't yelling at him, which meant he was either yelling at his mother or at Aryll. Rinku panicked. He hated it when his father yelled at anyone but him. He could take it, but his fragile mother and younger sister…he just hated it.

He heard Aryll's voice yell back at his father's and sat up. His head exploded with pain and he felt dizzy from the sudden movement. He almost fell back on the bed, but he was determined to save his sister.

He flung his legs over the bed and stood. Another wave of dizziness and pain swept over him, but he shook it off. He opened the door to his room and went down the hall. He found his family in the kitchen. His father and Aryll stood in front of the table, yelling at each other, while his mother sat like a bump on a log at the table with her head in her arms. Rinku knew his father must have hit her again.

Rinku took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped into the kitchen. "Dad!" he yelled, instantly attracting his father's attention. In that moment, he realized that his father had his hand up, ready to hit Aryll. Rinku knew he wasn't a moment too late, "don't you lay a finger on her!"

His father growled from deep in his throat, "tell me, boy, why should I listen to you?"

"If you're going to take your anger out on someone, take it out on me!" Rinku told him, "don't hurt them."

His father sneered, "if you insist, I just might do that."

"Rinku! What are you doing?" Aryll asked, shocked.

Rinku ignored her, "stop, dad! If you don't stop what you're doing, I'm going to take Aryll and mom and we're going to leave and never come back."

His mother looked up from the table. A large red handprint spread across her cheek, and tears streamed down her face. She looked at him with longing in her eyes, and just a glimmer of hope. Rinku knew, from all the times that the three of them had been home while Rinku's father was out getting drunk, that his mother had wanted to leave for a while, but she hadn't had the courage to. Maybe this was the break she needed.

"You can't leave. You need me for money!" his father was enraged.

"What money? The only money you ever have you waste on booze!" Rinku replied.

His father curled and uncurled his fists as he sauntered toward Rinku, "you better watch your mouth boy or I'll-"

"You'll what? Hit me? I can take that. I have every time before. We all have. I'm sick of your abuse!"

His father was now right in front of him, crowding him, "yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there ain't anything you can do 'bout it, is there?"

Link felt sharp pain in his stomach that left him breathless. He looked down to see his father's fist. He curled over, gasping for breath. He heard Aryll scream his name, but she sounded distant. His head still throbbed. As his breath slowly began returning to him, he said, "what's wrong, old man? Is that all you've got?" He drove his knee upward, right into his father's crotch. His father's face contorted in pain and he sank to his knees.

Link raced past him and into the kitchen. Aryll ran over to him and he put one hand on her shoulder, the other on his mother's, "mom, we can leave. You know we can. I know you want to. Please, mom."

The fear was clear in her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.

Rinku was shocked, "what? Why not?"

"You little brat!" they were out of time. Rinku's father was on his feet again, somehow, and was marching angrily toward the trio. Link stepped in front of the women, "just don't hurt them. Do what you want with me, but don't hurt them!"

His father grabbed the back of his shirt, the anger evident in his eyes, and dragged him out of the kitchen.

'_Twas a silly gesture._

'Twas brave.

_But stupid._

He will learn. It will come in time. Have you done it yet?

_No. I wanted to see your choice. Now you can see mine._

Very well. Let us go.

**Is it done?**

Yes. And you?

**Yes.**

Will he come?

_I cannot say for certain, but I believe he will come soon._

Good.

Sheik paced the small room impatiently. He hated being cooped up; he was restless. His captors knew he was restless, but they didn't care. They wouldn't do anything about it.

For about the seventieth time in the past ten minutes, he lashed out in anger at one of the brick walls. He kicked it and rammed against it, ignoring the constant pain in his body that he had brought on himself because of all the times he had thrown himself against the wall. Finally, he gave up and resumed his pacing.

The room was made up of four brick walls, one of which had a door in it that Sheik had to duck to get through. The room itself was cold with a stone floor and no insulation, save for the two blankets on the floor that served as a bed; one to sleep on and one to sleep under. He nearly froze to death every night. No pillow. The room had just enough room for a small desk against one wall, though there was no chair to go with it. The desk was littered with papers, some of which had fallen to the floor. Many of them were blank, but those that had writing were written in blood, since Sheik didn't have ink. They were song lyrics, mostly, but some were parts of poems or other things Sheik had memorized. It was his desperate attempt at staying sane: he would write anything that made sense.

The first time he had tried writing, he had been afraid to try it. The whole idea of drawing blood had been revolting, but another prisoner had told him the only way to do it since they didn't have knives. So, as he felt madness approaching, he had bitten off the skin of his index finger. The pain had been intense, but he knew that as long as he never let the scab heal completely, he could simply peel it off again. He then began writing, and that helped. He had plenty of paper, and though he had written much, he hadn't used much paper since he wrote many things on one sheet; he knew he wouldn't get more of it and he wasn't thrilled with the idea of being reduced to writing on walls. The room only had enough space for him to pace two steps in one direction before he had to turn around again, but the movement was the only thing that kept him warm. The only light in the room came from a dull, exposed light bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was likely to go out any moment, and when it did, there wasn't much of a chance that it would be replaced, so Sheik would be plunged into darkness.

Sheik had been here for years. He had been twelve when he arrived, and now he was seventeen. He hated it here. Not that he had liked it better at the 'other place.' The 'other place' had been almost the exact same thing as this place, only for boys aged eleven and under. It was there that he had made a friend. He had been ten when a new boy arrived and Sheik took him under his wing. The other boy, whose family had evaded capture longer than Sheik had on his own, taught Sheik to read and write. Sharing their knowledge with each other was a way for the two boys to remain safe. Sheik had been two years older than that boy, though, so he had been transferred.

For two years, Sheik had entertained the hope that the boy would join him there, but he never came. Sheik knew that meant he had either been moved to a different facility, or he had died. Sheik hoped it was the former.

The facility where Sheik currently was had both genders, and Sheik had made another friend. They were the same age, so Sheik couldn't help but hope that they would stay together when they were transferred again at age eighteen, but Sheik knew the chances of that were slim.

Finally, Sheik became bored of pacing and thrashing the wall. He slammed his hands down on the desk, sending a few papers flying. He grabbed the closest paper that had space to write and picked off the scab on his finger. He knelt over the paper and wrote:

_Dear Agony_

_Just let go of me_

_Suffer slowly_

_Is this the way it's gotta be?_

_Don't bury me_

_Faceless enemy_

_I'm so sorry_

_Is this the way it's gotta be?_

_Dear Agony_*

As he wrote the last few words, a loud buzzer shook the air and the door slid open. "Finally," Sheik muttered to himself. He put his finger to his mouth and licked off the remaining blood. He exited his cell and turned down a hall, blinking at the sudden bright light. A handful of men, all either his age or younger, were heading in the same direction as him. They rounded a corner and entered a large room with tables. On one side, a stack of food trays were piled high next to what could only be described as food, though Sheik was convinced it wasn't actually edible. Well, he hadn't died yet…

On the other side of the room, the women were entering. Sheik got his food and sat down to wait at one of the tables. A few moments later, a woman with long hair that was so blonde it was almost white sat across from him.

"Hi," she greeted.

He nodded in her direction as he gathered the mental capacity needed to swallow the sludge he had just shoveled into his mouth.

"How are you this wonderful morning?" the woman asked sarcastically.

Sheik finally choked down the slime, "guess."

"Same here."

"I really just want out," Sheik whispered.

"Me too," the woman replied, also whispering. Talk of leaving was strictly forbidden, "who doesn't?"

Sheik didn't know her name. He didn't know the name of the boy he had met in the other facility, either. He didn't want to know. Both his companions had been willing enough to tell him, but he thought that for all their safety it was better if they didn't know. That way, if something happened to either of them, the other wouldn't know anything. And the truth serum would prove it. Both Sheik's companions had agreed as soon as he had shown them his logic, so they remained anonymous to each other.

Sheik put his fork down and the woman, whom he called 'Shell', because of the bracelet of shells she always wore, chuckled at the spot of blood left on it, "so, you were writing today?"

"I write every day. If I don't, I go insane."

"Me too," she smiled and showed him the fresh blood on her own finger, "what did you write?"

"Lyrics."

"To a song?"

"What else?"

Shell shrugged, "a poem."

"Well, it was a song. What did you write?"

"The beginning of a novel."

"The beginning of a novel?" Sheik repeated.

"Hard to believe, Blue?" Shell called Sheik 'Blue' because of his unique blue suit. His people rarely wore anything like that, but he refused to tell her where he got it, so she derived his nickname from it.

"Not really hard per se, but I just can't believe you would actually start writing a novel here."

"It's an autobiography. About my life here."

"Ah."

"Just to keep from going insane."

Sheik's eyes wandered to Shell's neck. She wore a cowl that hung loosely around her neck. In fact, it was the one article of clothing that everyone in the room, Sheik included, had in common. They all had different facial features, different hair colors, different physique, and different clothes, but they all had red eyes and wore a cowl around their neck.

Shell and Sheik sat in silence for around half an hour while they finished their food. Then, the loud buzzer rang again. Everyone sighed and stood. They put their trays away and pulled their cowls up to conceal their faces. Around each other, other Sheikah, it was fine to show their faces. It was also fine around people they trusted, but around the guards in the prison, who were certainly not trusted, they kept their faces hidden.

They wandered in the halls again until they emerged in a small stone room. Green plants grew up from cracks in the floor, and light spilled in from barred windows in the ceiling. The distance from the floor to the ceiling was longer than the distance between any of the walls. They were here for fifteen minutes in what the guards called 'down time', but it was really just a bigger cell with more light and people. Not that the people mattered. They weren't allowed to talk. Which made life even more difficult when the guards were in the mood to taunt the prisoners.

Shell and Sheik sat close to the far wall on the floor facing each other. Some of the other inmates were using the bars on the windows to work out as best they could. Others were sparring, running, training in any way they could. Shell raised her eyebrows in a question. Sheik nodded, and they began practicing their magic.

The Shadow Magic of the Sheikah was an ancient art that all Sheikah knew. Shell and Sheik weren't the only ones practicing it. A few of the people sparring were alternating between martial arts and magic. Sheik preferred to practice martial arts while alone in his room. That was what he did when he took out his anger on the wall.

Many times, Shell had asked Sheik about escape, but he knew it was impossible. She had asked him once about if she could use magic to escape, but the nature of their magic was wrong. If they were able to escape, their magic would simply aid them from there, but inside, they didn't have the capabilities to break through walls or teleport. Their magic was Shadow Magic; magic used to conceal and to hide and deceive. It was often confused with the rare capabilities of Twilight Magic which was more destructive.

Sheik had grown up being well trained and knowledgeable in Shadow Magic, even more than the average Sheikah. Since Shell had been in captivity longer than Sheik, she hadn't had a chance to be trained. Sheik had offered to train her, and she accepted, so they used 'down time' as their training sessions.

As the fifteen minutes drew to a close and the buzzer went off yet again, they went their separate ways. Sheik returned to his cold, dark cell. He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, staring at the opposite wall where he always took out his anger. He sighed, knowing he would never leave. Even when he was transferred, the next facility was bound to be worse than this one.

Anger boiled inside him again and he stood. He strode across the room to the opposite wall and lashed out. He kicked it and punched it, ignoring the pain in his knuckles, knees and feet. Finally, he stopped when he felt something warm, wet and sticky on his right hand. He drew back and looked at his hand. It was bleeding, the blood running along his hand and wrist and threatening to stain his blue sleeve.

He sucked in air through his teeth, inspecting the damage and holding his wrist close to his chest. The scent of the blood blew past him, gently kissing his cheek.

_Wait, the air shouldn't be moving,_ Sheik thought. He looked up at the wall. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Forgetting his hand, he pressed his palms against the bricks, trying to find something, anything, that was out of place. Finally, his fingers pressed against a brick that moved. He pushed on it in different places, trying to wiggle it out of place and taste more of that sweet, sweet air.

Finally, the brick fell to the other side of the wall and light came in. He blinked and looked out through the hole. He felt a gentle breeze and could see blue skies and heard birds singing. Violently, he hit the wall again. His hand was forgotten as he bashed the wall, trying to increase the size of the hole. One by one, bricks came loose. It seemed that once that one brick was loose, the rest would fall more easily since they weren't as tightly packed.

Eventually, the hole was big enough to fit through. He stepped out. The sky was blue, with patches of clouds in a few places. The breeze was sweet and clean and cool. The grass was springy under his feet. The sound of animals and insects was loud in his ears. A few feet away from him was a tall fence.

How long had it been since he had seen and felt these things? Years. He wasn't sure exactly how many. He was caught up in the shock of the moment. He was so tempted to run. But his thoughts turned to Shell. He didn't want to leave her behind.

He returned to his cell. He had made his decision. He picked up his two blankets, and left again. He scaled the fence and dropped down on the other side. He broke into a sprint and kept running. His breath came easily and his endurance never wore down. Being a Sheikah, he was used to running hard and long and his body was built for it.

He knew what Shell would want. She would tell him to be free. To leave her behind. His chances of saving her were higher if he could find someone to help him. If he did that, he could save all of them. But if he stayed, he would only be punished, and Shell probably would too.

She didn't know his name and she didn't know anything about him. She didn't know where he would go and he hoped that those things were enough to keep her safe.

He ran until night began to fall. By then, he was finally breathing hard. He didn't know where he was and he hoped that if he just kept going, he would eventually run into something that would tell him where to go: a road, or a farm if he was lucky.

As the sun began to set, he found a comfortable place on the grass, which was much softer than his cell floor, set up his bed, and lay down. Silently, he prayed to anyone who would listen that he would make it.

Is she ready?

_Not yet. I wish to wait._

What of the boy?

_He is clouded from my vision. He is safe now but his future is dark._

Will you be ready on time?

_Yes. Will you?_

I am slightly behind, but I think I will be able to make up for it.

_Good. See that you do. The time draws ever closer._

**I know I probably shouldn't be starting a new story now, but this has been on my mind and I have been quietly working on it for a while. I was worried that if I didn't post it, I would end up having a super long chapter. This was the best place to end this chapter because otherwise this would end up being the world's longest oneshot.**

**So, I hope you enjoy. It may be a while before you see chapter 2 of this since I am trying to focus on my other two stories and I still have _Things Change_ to work on, too.**

**One final announcement: I have Twitter! (By that I mean I made a secondary account that I will use as my writer's account. It helps to have two email addresses! But you don't care about that…) The link is in my profile if you want to follow me and know when I'm writing or watching TV, etc. Assuming you care…**

**Until next time!**

_~Maya_


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